


New pursuits

by Signe_chan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 00:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19713028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: Now the world is saved and heaven and hell are both overcome, Azirahpale and Crowley must decide how to spend their new free time.





	New pursuits

“So, what now?” 

“What now?” Crowley asked, peeling his head off the book shop floor. “Now, we- we drink this wine-“ 

“Very fine wine,” Aziraphale slurred. Crowley nodded because, yes indeed, it was very fine wine. It had seemed the thing to do. The world was saved, they were still on it and, for now, they had outwitted the entire forces of heaven and hell and if that wasn’t the time to break out the good wine, well. 

He looked over at Aziraphale again to find the angel watching him. “What?” 

“What do we do now?” 

Oh, yes. 

“We drink this wine. Then we sober up. Then, I dunno really. Maybe we should sleep.” 

“Sleep?” Aziraphale said, a delightfully scandalised look on his face. “You’re going to go to all that effort with heaven and hell just so you can sleep.” 

“Why not? Like a bit of sleep, me. You know, I slept for ages once. Whole century.” 

“Yes, I remember. Oh, I do hope you don’t do that again. It was terribly lonely.” 

Crowley nodded. Yes, of course, he couldn’t just go off and sleep for a century now. Not when they’d told everyone else in the entire universe to bugger off. He might be a heartless bastard but he certainly wasn’t going to talk Aziraphale into shacking up with him in whatever weird limbo they’d created for themselves and then abandoning him. 

Even if he the idea of just falling asleep for a couple of decades really was quite appealing. 

“So, what do we do?” 

“I don’t know. Whatever we want, I think. Not like there’s anyone telling us what to do.” 

“I suppose.” Crowley could hear the sulk in Aziraphale’s voice. After all these centuries, he could just imagine the put out expression the angel would have on his face. He had a look over anyway, just to check he’s got it right. He did, it was one of his favourite faces. 

“I mean, I told you my idea.” 

“Crowley.” 

“You know, you could sleep too.” 

“Sleep,” Aziraphale replied, shifting into mildly scandalised. 

“Yes.” 

“But that would be slovenly. A sin.” 

“Well, it’s not as though you’ve never enjoyed the pleasures of a human body before. All those little cafes-“ 

“Perhaps that’s what we should do,” Aziraphale said, face lighting up. “Little cafes. Oh, now we don’t have to be here to dispense miracles we can go wherever we like. I’ve always wanted to try genuine Afghani cuisine.” 

“Yes, but that’d hardly be fair, would it,” Crowley said, waving his hand in the air. He wasn’t sure what point he was trying to make, exactly, because following Azirahpale around and watching him try new foods didn’t sounds too bad, actually. He always made this little pleased expression the first time he tried something, as though he was really tasting that food on some kind of level Crowley just didn’t have access to, and it was right up there with ‘put-out’ in terms of Crowley’s favourite ways for Aziraphale to look.

“No, I suppose not.” 

“I mean, I don’t eat.” 

“You could eat.” 

“And you could sleep.” 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, suddenly shooting to his feet. He stumbled for a second and Crowely thought about reaching out to steady him but then thought better of it. “We can. We should.” 

“What?” 

“Eat and sleep,” Aziraphale said, beaming. “My dear boy, we should go out and have the most delicious meal, I will take you for the finest dinner in all of London, and then we shall sleep. And then we shall do it all over again the next day and on and on until we are satisfied.” 

Crowley blinked. “Are you saying you’ll try sleeping.” 

“If you try eating.” 

Crowley frowned. He’d tried eating a few times, mostly at Aziraphale’s insistence. The food had always felt weird in his body, heavy and wrong and he’d not particularly enjoyed the process of getting it out again. 

But then, in return, he’d get a chance to sleep without the guilt of leaving Aziraphale behind. Perhaps he could even talk Azirahpale into the two of them sleeping in the same place so when he woke up he could look over and see his angel. Luckily, there was enough alcohol in his brain that he didn’t have to analyse why that idea seemed so right. 

“Alright, you’re on.” 

“Excellent,” Aziraphale agreed. “Now, I think this calls for one more glass of wine.” 

***

The problem with making a plan with Azirahpale was that he expected you to stick to it, which was how Crowley found himself facing down a variety of small plates and, while he knew what all these things were in theory, he didn’t have the faintest idea where to start. 

“Here,” Aziraphale said, nudging one of the dishes. “Try this one.” 

It was prawns. They lay there, curled and dejected, their dead bodies slathered in a rich garlic butter. There was a space where Aziraphale had clearly already eaten one. 

“No thanks, don’t do prawns.” 

“Why ever not?” 

“Dunno really.” Crowley speared one of the prawns with his fork and held it up to his face. “I suppose it just looks a bit, I don’t know, alive? Like, you look at a steak and you don’t think ‘oh, that comes from a cow that does’, but when you look at a prawn.” 

“Well, I’d never have taken you as a supporter of animal rights.” 

“Watch your mouth, angel.” He put the prawn back in the bowl then grabbed his napkin and gave his fork a wipe. Aziraphale sighed but reached over and speared the prawn for himself. As he tasted it, his eyes fluttered closed and he made a small, content sound. Crowley drank it in. Why on earth would he want to eat the damn prawn himself when this was the alternative. 

Aziraphale opened his eyes, smiled softly, then turned his attention back to the table. 

“Not the prawns, then. How about something a little simpler. A stuffed olive.” 

“Never liked olives,” Crowley said. “Horrible salty little things.” 

“My dear, you did say you’d try.” 

He had. He heaved a sigh and stuck his fork into one of the olives. It squelched unpleasantly. He raised an eyebrow. 

“They’re stuffed with orange,” Aziraphale supplied, apparently unmoved. “They’re really rather good.” 

There was no getting out of it, then. Crowley raised the olive to his lips. It was as salty as he remembered and just the wrong amount of mushy. He chewed and swallowed quickly then chased it with a drink of his wine. 

Aziraphale watched, disappointed. 

“What?” 

“You didn’t exactly taste it.” 

“I tasted it enough.” 

Aziraphale sighed. He popped an olive in his mouth and started to scan the other dished on the table. Crowley wilted a little. Ah well, soon enough, he’d get his. 

***

Much to Crowley’s delight, Azirahpale followed him home from the restaurant. He’d had to, really. His shop didn’t have a bed and while you could sleep on a couch, it wasn’t exactly going to be an optimal sleeping experience. 

Aziraphle wandered away to say nice thing to the plants as he inevitably did whenever Crowley had the bad sense to let him in and Crowley ignored it, heading through to the bedroom. 

Someone had once told Crowley about the importance of a good bed and he’d taken the advice to heart. His bed was a super king size. The mattress was top of the line memory foam, a marching band could do their practice on one end of his bed and not disturb Crowley, asleep at the other end. The sheets were Egyptian cotton and were, of course, a deep black, as were all his other bed linens. Overall, Crowley liked to think it gave an air of excess, comfort, and vague menace and he was quite pleased with it. 

Aziraphale wandered into the bedroom and look dubiously at it. 

“Well,” he said, with the air of someone headed to his execution. “I suppose it’s time to sleep.” 

“You suppose right. Did you bring anything to sleep in or do you need to borrow something?” 

“Anything to sleep in?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley took the chance to get a look at his puzzled face, one of his favourites. “I supposed that I’d sleep in the bed.” 

“Yes, angel,” Crowley said, slowly. “But clothes. Did you bring any clothes?” 

He looked down at himself, his suit, his waistcoat, for someone’s sake, his pressed trousers, then back over to Crowley, clearly baffled. 

“Well you can’t sleep in that.” 

“Why on earth not?” 

“You’ll never get comfortable.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. He looked down at himself again, contemplatively. “Then I suppose I’ll have to sleep without them.” 

“No.” Crowley didn’t examine too closely the idea that Aziraphale naked in his bed might be just about the worst thing that could have happened to his self control and was to be avoided at all costs. “Here, you can borrow something.” 

He dived into his drawers and pulled out a t-shirt and some sleep shorts. Really, he was lucky he had spares. Not the he couldn’t miraculously find a pair if he needed to but, as it was, he was able to put an old t-shirt for a festival he’d caused a minor flood and several major technical difficulties for a few years ago and a pair of worn shorts into Aziraphale’s hands and send him away to change. 

He changed quickly and managed to be under the sheets by the time Aziraphale came back in. There was something unnerving about him in casual clothing, somehow it felt almost worse than seeing him naked. Especially when it was so obviously Crowley’s casual clothing. 

He fixed his eyes on the ceiling until he was damn sure Aziraphale was in the bed. When he let himself check, Aziraphale was there, laid out closer than Crowley had expected on the memory foam, his head on the pillow, eyes on Crowley. 

Crowley swallowed. 

“Now what?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Now, we go to sleep.” 

“Yes, but how.” 

“I don’t know,” Crowley sighed. He tried to remember back to the days when he’d first started sleeping, though that was a long time ago now. “You just close your eyes, I guess. Relax. Think of something nice. Let your mind wander and, bam, sleep.” 

“You make it sound so easy,” Aziraphale said. He heaved a sigh then rolled over on to his back. 

“It’s pretty simple. Night, Angel.” 

“Goodnight, my dear.” 

Crowley closed his eyes. 

He let his mind wander. He thought about the weight of the food in his stomach, about how bloody annoying it had been, other than the bits where he’d watched Aziraphale eat and, really, what was the problem with his just watching Aziraphale eat? He quite liked that. The conversation was good, better than anyone else he spoke to on the regular. Really, he thought, there was nothing wrong with them just carrying on as they always had, with Aziraphale eating and Crowley watching, their knees and feet brushing occasionally under the table, the taste of wine on Crowley’s lips and the soft way Aziraphale smiled when he found something delightful. 

Crowley’s body was heavy, his mind drifted on the shape of Aziraphale’s lips and slid gently into sleep. 

“Crowley.” 

And awake again. 

“Crowley.” 

“What?” 

“I can’t sleep.” 

Crowley opened his eyes. Aziraphale was glaring at him, definitely annoyed. He yawned and rolled over, putting his back to the angel, which only earned him a poke in the spine so he rolled back. 

“Yes.” 

“I told you, I can’t sleep.” 

“You’ve hardly tried. Just close your eyes and relax. It’ll come.” 

“When?” Aziraphale glared. “How long, exactly, will it take?” 

“I don’t know. Just, a while.” 

“You were asleep.” 

“Yes, I was,” Crowley agreed. “And I still would be if you hadn’t bloody woken me up. Go to sleep, Angel.” 

Aziraphale huffed, but he stopped arguing and settled again, lying on his side now and staring at Crowley. Crowley shut his eyes. He was going to go to sleep. He deserved a good, relaxing sleep. He’d worked hard, helped to save the world. He was going to sleep. 

Only he was pretty sure Aziraphale was still watching him. 

He opened his eyes. He was right. Aziraphale was staring right at him. 

“You know, you’re never going to get to sleep if you don’t shut your eyes.” 

“I’ve already told you, I can’t sleep.” 

“So, what, you’re just going to lie there with your eyes open and watch me sleeping?” 

“Well, I might as well,” Aziraphale huffed, crossing his arms which looked more than a little ridiculous when he was lying there tangled up in Crowley’s sheets. “I mean, I can’t get to sleep.” 

“You’ve not even given it a fair try.” 

“Did you give dinner a fair try?” 

That was a very good point. Crowley sighed and sat up. Looked like he wasn’t going to get his sleep after all, not right now anyway. “Alright, this was a bad idea. Experiment failed.” 

“It rather has, hasn’t it,” Aziraphale said, huffing and rolling onto his back. “I had rather hoped… never mind.” 

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. What’s wrong?” 

“I just, well, I suppose I’d hoped that, now the world hasn’t ended and we’ve rather unexpectedly come into some free time, that we might spend a little more time together. I am rather fond of you, you know.” 

Crowley straightened his back a little. He couldn’t help the way a smile curved at his lips. Aziraphale was rather fond of him. 

“Though, now I’m sober and I’m thinking about this rationally, it’s possible we went about it the wrong way. After all, you’ve never had to eat before to enjoy our lunches.” 

“Yes,” Crowley said. It was exactly the point he’d have made if he wasn’t meant to be getting Aziraphale sleeping next to him in trade. 

“And it’s not as though I mind you sleeping, as long as you confine yourself to shorter periods. I do rather need some time to myself.” 

“Exactly. There’s nothing wrong with the system we had.” He ignored the part of his brain that was telling him Aziraphale sleeping in his clothes, close and safe, was also pretty fucking awesome and he should fight to get to have that again. 

“Perhaps. Or perhaps we’ve just been going about this the wrong way. See, we’re trying to introduce each other to things we already do. Perhaps what we should be doing it finding something else, something we can experience together.” 

“What?” Crowley said, brow wrinkling. He looked over and Aziraphale was watching him expectantly so he clearly had something in mind, something Crowley wasn’t quite getting. Aziraphale’s eyes left his and scanned down, seeming to pause for a moment on Crowley’s lips then sliding down, right down, and stopping again. 

Oh. 

Well. 

Yes. 

“You mean sex,” his mouth blurted out. Some long locked away corner of Crowley’s brain yelled in joy. 

“I’d never be so forthright,” Aziraphale said, blushing and looking incredibly pleased with himself so, yes, sex was exactly what he’d meant. “But, well, if you’re offering.” 

“You want to have sex. With me.” 

“Well, it’d rather defeat the point of spending more time together if we both went out and had sex with other people.” 

He was being sassed. He was being sassed by Aziraphale and half of his mind was completely shocked by this while the other was wondering why he didn’t have Aziraphale naked and arse up on his expensive Egyptian cotton sheets already. 

“I just, I didn’t know you were, you know, capable. I mean, I’m a demon, I’m fully functional but I thought…” 

“Yes, it’s a minor miracle,” Aziraphale said, blushing in such a way that made it clear exactly who’d preformed that miracle. “If you don’t want to-“ 

“No, I definitely want to.” Crowley reached out and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. They sat there for a second, palms pressed together. It felt good. It felt like what he’d wanted for a long time, wanted so badly he hadn’t even been able to admit it to himself. “You’re sure.” 

“Yes, dear boy. I’m sure.” 

“Alright. Well, I suppose we’d better kiss.” 

Aziraphale tongue darted out to moisten his lips. He nodded. Crowley’s mouth suddenly went dry, which he chose to blame on the olive he’d eaten earlier. He reached out with the hand that wasn’t gripping Aziraphale’s and touched the angel’s jaw, letting his fingers run over the cheek to the lips. Aziraphale held his gaze when he did it. 

Crowley leant in and kissed him. 

He pulled back after a second. Aziraphale was still watching him. 

“Have you done this before?” 

Aziraphale blushed. “Once or twice, with a few discrete gentlemen. Never, I mean, sometimes they would get quite the wrong idea and kiss me and, of course, being an angel, I would never let it go any further but…” 

“So, normally, when someone kisses you, you close your eyes.” 

“Oh, right,” Aziraphale said, and quickly shut his eyes. Crowley sighed, but he leant in to try again. Apparently having his eyes closed helped as Aziraphale actually kissed back this time, his lips soft and pliant under Crowley’s. Crowley pressed closer and nudged until Aziraphale got the idea and let himself by tumbled back into the sheets. Crowley moved up to straddle his hips and kissed him again. This time, Aziraphale let his mouth fall open and moaned lightly when Crowley slipped his tongue inside, stroking it along Aziraphale’s. 

They kissed for a while, Aziraphale slowly getting used to the sensation, Crowley letting his hands roam over his angel’s body, over his jaw, into his hair, one hand snaking down and under the borrowed t-shirt then up over Aziraphale’s ribs which had made him gasp wonderfully. 

When Crowley finally made himself stop, Aziraphale looked half way to ruined already and Crowley had to mentally revaluate because this, this was his favourite expression of Aziraphale’s. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and the parts of his body he didn’t normally pay a lot of attention to definitely perked up at his name said in that voice, in that tone. 

“Yes, angel.” 

“That was… you’re rather good at that.” 

“Thanks,” Crowley said. He used his hand under the t-shirt to push it up and off. Aziraphale even sat up a little to help with the operation then reached out to tug at the hem of Crowley’s shirt. He yanked it over his head then reached down to touch Aziraphale’s chest. He was so fucking warm and soft. Crowley felt like he shouldn’t like this so much, he was a demon, he was probably meant to be all about hard fucking and spanking people while they call you daddy and such. 

Aziraphale raised a hand to cup his jaw and he turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s palm. He’d always been a bit of a rubbish demon anyway. 

“I suppose,” Aziraphale said, slowly and carefully, that you’ve had rather more experience of this than I have.” 

“Well,” Crowley said, shrugging. He should lie, it was in his bloody nature to lie, but Aziraphale was looking up at him, warm and open and apparently trusting Crowley to know where they were going. “Not so much, actually. I mean, lust, some demons are really into lust. Big sin, lust. Very popular with the bosses. I’ve just always been, you know, a bit more subtle.” 

“Oh, of course.” 

“Damning a soul’s more of an art, sometimes. You can’t always just run in with your cock out and expect things to work out for you.” 

“Of course,” Aziraphale agreed. His hand had wandered from Crowley’s cheek and was gently petting his hair. “So you haven’t.” 

“I mean, I have. Once or twice. Never quite saw the appeal, thought.” 

“Well, we don’t have to, my dear boy. If you’d rather we put our clothes back on and, I don’t know, opened a bottle of wine?” 

Crowley didn’t want that. He leant down and kissed Aziraphale again to let him know just how much he didn’t want that, pressing down so Aziraphale could feel just how much Crowley wanted them to stay right where they were and carry on what they were doing. Aziraphale was hard too, he could feel it and he liked it. He’d wanted to mess Aziraphale up a million times, in a million ways. This was the best one. 

When he pulled back, Aziraphale pulled him back down and he let it happen. He’d done things before. There’d been a rather terrible woman in Russia one and a man in Australia the one time Crowley had ventured down that far who’d enjoyed sucking on Crowley’s cock. It had never felt like this, though. 

Aziraphale’s hand seemed like they were everywhere, soft and encouraging and coaxing. Crowley tried his best to do what they were suggesting, grabbing Aziraphale’s hips and lifting them a little so they had a better angle to rut against each other. It felt bloody good. Aziraphale kept making these little, needy grasps, his fingers digging into Crowley’s flesh, and Crowley hadn’t even known he’d wanted this but now he needed it. They were going to have to do this again. They were going to have to do this every day. 

His breath was coming in short pants now. Aziraphale’s eyes had fallen shut, his face surprisingly calm. When he realised Crowley wasn’t going to kiss him right away, his eyes fluttered open and they just looked at each other. For a second, time could almost have stopped. Aziraphale looked so open, so fucking trusting. 

Crowley came. 

It had been a damn long time and he’d forgotten the intensity of it. It felt like something pulled out of him and made his legs tremble and his breath come in short pants. He closed his eyes and let the feeling of it wash over him, Aziraphale’s hands the only thing holding him on earth. 

When he opened his eyes again, Aziraphale was watching him. 

“My dear,” he said, concern written across his face. “Are you quite alright?” 

Crowley grinned. He reached down between them and slid his hand into Aziraphale’s sleeping shorts. He was still hard and he gasped when Crowley got a hand around him. Later, Crowley was going to get down on his knees like that man in Australia and take Aziraphale into his mouth. He was going to learn just how to do that in the best way, the way that made Aziraphale tremble apart in his arms. He was going to go on the bloody internet and go to all the parts he’d made sure were there but he never visited and learn all about what this stupid human body could do, all the ways it could make orgasms, all the ways he could use it to make Aziraphale feel good. 

He pumped his fist and Aziraphale writhed under him. Miraculously, it was slick and he worked Aziraphale quickly, intensely, pushing him and pushing him until he was throwing his head back and choking out Crowley’s name, his first ever orgasm shuddering out of him and Crowley couldn’t help but lean over and kiss him though it, drinking his name from Aziraphale’s lips. 

In the aftermath, they lay tangled together. Crowley had Aziraphale below him and he listened as the angel’s breath settled. 

Now he really fancied a sleep. He’d not been this relaxed in a bloody long time. 

“Well,” Aziraphale said. “I believe that was a success.” 

“Yes, definitely.” Crowley yawned and made himself scoot over off Aziraphale. Aziraphale followed him, wrapping himself around Crowley and, well, he’d never had taken the angel for a cuddler but he wasn’t going to complain when it felt so bloody good. “Think we can try sleeping again.” 

“You sleep,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll wake you in a little while.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

“Maybe I’ll try to work out what we’re going to do now.” 

“Thought we worked that out. Sex. Lots of sex.” 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale sounded vaguely scandalised. Crowley smiled to himself. “We can’t just lie around and have sex all the time.” 

“No. We’ll go for dinner in a nice little restaurant where they know you. You’ll eat and I’ll drink then we’ll come back here and fully explore the possibilities of this sex thing, then I can nap and you can, well, do whatever you like.” 

“That does sound lovely,” Aziraphale sighed, relaxing. Crowley patted his hand. “You know, my dear, I am very, very fond of you.” 

If Crowley were the kind of creature who blushed, he would have blushed at that. “Yeah. I mean, you too.” 

Aziraphale hummed and leant forward to kiss Crowley’s cheek. Weirdly, it filled him right up with warmth in a way that even the fucking hadn’t. “Go to sleep, my dear. We’ll talk more in the morning.” 

“Alright. Goodnight, Angel.” 

And Crowley drifted into sleep.


End file.
